


The Guest Bedroom

by citrusbuds



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Some Fluff, We Love a Humble Milf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusbuds/pseuds/citrusbuds
Summary: Mary wakes up to an empty bed each morning, sheets twisted, flung over where Marisa lay the night before.She doesn't mind.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	The Guest Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not directly related to my longer Maryisa fic, "Armour", but it generally set along the same lines and patterns in their relationship. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Mary was used to waking up to an empty bed, finding her arm slung over the empty, cold space on the mattress, where Marisa had been when they had fallen asleep. Marisa was just like that, as far as she could tell. Every night since the first one they had spent together, she had woken up to an empty bed. The first time, she had thought Marisa had left her house, walked out on her, and so she had been quite surprised to find her calmly sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea. And like that night, Marisa just slept in Mary’s guest bedroom every night she was over - which was almost every night. Marisa had quite a few issues with intimacy, and Mary tried to roll with the punches the best she could, always giving Marisa the space she needed and not arguing. Mary was more than happy to fall asleep with Marisa most nights, even if she didn’t stay in her arms. Marisa had been the best thing to happen to Mary in years, and she would take her in any form. 

She and Marisa had been together now for about five months - the history of their relationship was a little complicated and Mary wasn’t sure where their status as ‘friends’ had ended and the one of ‘lovers’ had begun. Lovers? Girlfriends? Partners? Mary didn’t know. Had their classification changed when they had said it out loud for the first time, acknowledged it publicly? That would have been three and a half months ago - Marisa had been the one to say it, completely taking Mary by surprise.

They had been rearranging the guest bedroom to make extra space for a makeshift home office for Marisa, and Mary had been doing most of the heavy lifting - assembling the IKEA desk, (because Marisa, in her typical fashion, had announced with a scoff that she didn’t feel like “dirtying her hands with menial work”.) Moving the bed had also been Mary’s job - too heavy for Marisa, who put on a fake show of being a helpless maiden, feigning a dizzy spell, falling into Mary’s ready arms - though not without Mary making a few jokes about it first. If Marisa got to play the princess, Mary would just have to be the big, strong, knight - a dynamic she found very funny, considering how weak she actually was. When Mary had finally finished the work, she had flopped down onto the bed next to where Marisa had been lounging, having been watching her work, suppressing her laughter while Mary had searched fruitlessly for missing screws and such.

Mary had smiled playfully at her. “You really pulled your weight, didn’t you?”

“Oh, do be quiet. Looking this pretty is a job all in itself.” Marisa had smiled back, humor creeping into the edge of her voice. “Plus, as long as we’re together, you’re doing the dirty work. That’s what you signed up for.” 

All the blood in Mary’s body had seemed to rush to her head. Together? She and Marisa were together? A million emotions had flooded through her, but the overwhelming one had been happiness. _Together._ It was the confirmation she had been waiting for, one she would have never dared impose upon Marisa. 

Before she had even really been able to process what had been said to her, Marisa had leaned her head down and kissed her, catching her by surprise. Obviously she had known what she’d been doing, saying that. Mary had kissed her back, more than happy to give Marisa the reaction she had surely wanted. 

  
  


Mary thought very fondly about that moment. She remembered the way it had all felt - Marisa’s lips were of course no different from the ones that had been on hers hours before at the breakfast table, tasting of bitter coffee - black, the only way Marisa would take it, and of the strawberries they had eaten for breakfast, and just a hint of her own lips, from the ten thousand kisses she had planted there over the months. They had been the same lips, but it had been _so_ different. Something had changed, even, in the air around them, once they had gotten _together._ Together - that was a powerful word.

Mary shook herself out of her reminiscing and dragged herself out of bed, stretching her arms high above her head and letting out a deep breath. Her auburn hair, unbrushed and unruly, fell into her eyes, forcing her to push it back. Walking down the hallway, she peeked into the guest bedroom. It was in a state of disarray, Marisa probably downstairs. She never made the bed, a leftover habit of her posh life in her old world. Mary thought it was kind of cute. Continuing down the stairs, she found Marisa hunched over a cup of coffee and a massive stack of papers, likely some university work. She was studying to become a professor like Mary was, which both of them were extremely happy about. Like every morning, they greeted each other with kisses and exchanged words about the day to come. Life was comfortable with Marisa. 

Every morning, Mary still woke up in an empty bed, although she still didn’t mind. The cycle continued with extreme regularity - they spent the day together or went about their business, ate dinner together, spent some more time together before bed, watching a movie or perhaps doing even _more_ work (the wonderful lives of academics), and retreated to their bedroom, with varying degrees of intimacy following. And without fail, the next morning, Marisa had slipped away to the guest bedroom, taking Ozymandias with her. 

One night, a sleepier one than usual, they settled into bed, eyelids droopy, seeking refuge from the winter cold just outside the window. As Mary was dozing off, facing Marisa, Ozymandias already deep in sleep nestled between them like a baby, instead of their usual spooning position (Marisa in Mary’s arms, and Ozy in Marisa’s, this intimacy a major breakthrough in their bond), she felt a hand touch her face, a bit tentatively. 

And then, softly, 

“Mary?” Marisa’s voice, reaching out from the darkness. “Are you still awake?” There was a certain shakiness in her voice that Mary only heard when Marisa had those rare moments of raw emotion.

Forcing herself out of her sleepy state, she opened her eyes and looked into Marisa’s, dimly lit by the moonlight streaming in from the window. 

  
“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?” She was suddenly worried - it was extremely unlike Marisa to wake Mary up, much less just to have an emotional moment. 

“Well, no need to get worked up, Mary.” Marisa’s voice had regained a bit of its usual clippy tone, a defense mechanism built deep into Marisa’s psyche, which still always made Mary flinch, no matter how many times she had told herself not to take it personally - after all Marisa always apologised, in her own way. 

“No, actually, I shouldn’t snipe at you. I’ve just been thinking…” Marisa trailed off.

“It’s okay, but what’s wrong?” She tried her hardest to put just the right amount of concern and caring in her voice. Marisa wasn’t one to be emotionally intimate and otherwise vulnerable, but that seemed to be where this was going. Mary needed to be sure to tread lightly. 

“I just want you to know..” She trailed off again, the words seemingly dying in her throat.

“I just want you to know, Mary, that I’m sorry.”

Mary knew exactly what Marisa was apologizing for but at the same time felt as if there was a world of things that Marisa was about to say. Marisa was not a woman who was good at apologies, and yet she was apologizing. This would only ever be about one thing. 

This was about the fact that they slept alone, the 9 paces from the master bedroom to the guest bedroom always separating them. The reasons they did. This was about the walls built around Marisa, the walls she had built herself, now towering too high for her to topple. This was about Marisa’s need to be touched and kissed and spoken to softly, and at the same time her unwillingness to hear kind words, the fact she thought she deserved pain. 

“I’m trying, Mary.” Her voice shook. “I really think I’m trying to get better.” Her voice broke, the tears starting to fall.

This wouldn’t in a million years be a choice that would have been easy for Marisa. Mary wondered how long Marisa had been waiting to say something. She thought back to a moment she thought she might have dreamed - Marisa, perched on the edge of their bed, in the earliest morning when the moon was under the horizon already but dawn hadn’t come creeping in yet, just sitting, as sober as always. Her hands had been folded neatly in her lap, but she had obviously been crying. She had just been sitting there, not meaning to wake Mary up. Mary had fallen back asleep quickly, succumbing to her own fatigue, but when she had woken up at an appropriate hour, Marisa had still been there, on the edge of the bed, silk pajamas adorned with a single tear stain. She had been sitting there all night - not sleeping in her bed, but with her in the room. Mary hadn’t known what to think.

Mary put her hand on Marisa’s face, wiping away a tear. 

“You don’t have to talk, Marisa, if you don’t want to. I promise that I know what you mean. I do. I promise. You know I would do anything for you.”

Marisa didn’t respond, but Mary knew that she understood her. 

Marisa didn’t have to say all the words in her head, all the apologies she wished she could have given Mary. Marisa didn’t have to struggle to form the words to tell Mary that she _wanted_ to be whole and be with her. She wanted it so much. Mary just knew, and Mary pulled her in closer, sheltering her as she sobbed, letting what must have been a few weeks of pent-up emotion flow out of her. Marisa didn’t have to say anything. Mary understood. 

Softly, Mary spoke. 

“Marisa, you are my everything.” Marisa’s body shifted, tensed, in her arms. Mary held her tighter. “I would do anything for you, and that includes giving you all the space you need, darling. Or as little space as possible.” Mary let out a tiny chuckle, stained with sadness - she had said this as Marisa, tentatively as ever, had huddled in closer to her, wanting to just be enveloped by Mary’s embrace and never leave it. 

Mary hesitated. 

Softly, she conjured up the words she had felt in every kiss, every touch of skin against skin, every stolen breath and stupid joke they shared, stretching back in their relationship to a point she couldn’t identify. 

“Marisa, I love you.” 

Holding Marisa tight, she began to cry as well. Some tears were out of sadness, some out of relief, some of happiness. She didn’t know how to feel. They had certainly been in love for a long time, that much she knew for sure. She would have laid down her life for Marisa on the spot if asked, she would have waited a thousand years for her, just to see her once more. She was sure Marisa was just as in love as she was, in her own Marisa way - most intense emotions Marisa had ever had in her life had torn her apart from the inside, leaving her shredded. Marisa knew she was in love with Mary, but she was too afraid of herself to examine the depth of her own feelings. She knew, deep inside, that Mary would do anything for her, just as she had always promised. She had been alone for so long. She was so used to the loneliness of life, to steeling herself for whatever came at her, that loving someone as tenderly as she loved Mary seemed impossible. Mary made her forget that life was ever lonely in the first place.

Lying there, in Mary’s arms, tight in her embrace, she let the words fall from her mouth. It wasn’t effortless, but it was real and it was true. 

“I love you too, Mary.” 

It was barely loud enough for either of them to hear.

“I love you so much.”

  
  


The two of them lay together, knowing they would have been content dying on the spot, in each other’s arms. Ozymandias snored gently next to them.

They slept better than they ever had.

The next morning, when the sun rose, the day pouring in through the window, Marisa was still lying in Mary’s arms. The guest bedroom door was closed. They didn’t need it anymore. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Of course, an eternal thank you to Deborah @MagicalStardust (go check out her Maryisa fics!) for being such a dedicated and patient beta reader and editor. I made a lot of tense mistakes. Thank you also to Mari @schereeer on twitter (they have amazing HDM art) for inspiring the "We Love A Humble Milf" tag. 
> 
> This fic was partially in celebration of the "Mary Malone is canonically a lesbian!!" uproar on HDM twitter (my @ is juiceboxbutch over there), but I didn't have it in me to write fluff - so this is the closest I'm getting. <3


End file.
